“Don’t do this, Anna.”
“It’s too late.” She gave a little laugh, one that was bordering on hysterical.
“Please. I didn’t mean it!”
“You cheated on me. Again.”
“Anna, what are you doing?” He took a step back, panicked.
“It meant everything.” She could only smile before pulling the trigger.
Anjeline Marquez wrote this story.
Putting pen to paper is an ominous sign.
It means that the demons whom I had so painstakingly put to sleep will arise and come knocking at my sanity. That I’m out in the open to be ground, scathed, churned, and burnt.
It means that I haven’t forgotten you, yet.
Swetha B Ram wrote this story.
“Please, why are you doing this?”
“You sent my sister to death!”
“It was for her own good!”
“This is for your own good, Bill.”
“This will never stand. You will be found out.”
“It’s too late to change my mind.”
“It was worth a shot.”
“No, it wasn’t.”
Bang!
Ashley Baird is a Grade 11 student in a creative writing class. She was forced to submit this by her teacher.
He gave my daddy 20 gold coins.
“Room?”
He had one bag.
We quickly arrived at his room.
He placed his colt on his table. “That’s our secret.”
“May I see?”
“No.”
I gave him the key.
The next day he was gone without a trace.
Except for the revolver.
Gaghe Macwilliams is a high school student from PEI Canada who decided to try out 50-word stories.
There were a thousand of us. We no longer understood the dichotomy of existence. We lined up in front of the wall, found a hole, and began to slide our fingers in and out as if we had real chance of digging our way through.
Heartbroken, we yearned to remember.
Alex Noel is a writer. He lives in Montreal.
I scanned the book shelves, mulling over the titles, humming to myself as I went along.
Nothing grabbed my interest so I skipped to the next shelf, keeping myself hopeful.
Then he walked up behind me and smiled.
“You know, sometimes you should just let a good story find you.”
Hannah Worth wrote this story.
I see him. He’s large. Grey. Fat. His angry growls ripple slowly up his hairy neck, his ugly eyes glaring evilly at me.
But I’m not leaving here without a fight.
My sharp claws pierce the ground. I bare my teeth at him. Ginger fur rises above me.
I’m ready.
Issy Heath is a 13-year-old pupil at Longhill High School in Brighton, UK.
He walked into a dark room. It was old, and looked like no one had used it in a long time. He chuckled; no one was going to stop him. He slowly pulled up a gun and aimed for her head.
“Tea time!” Mother shouted.
The screen read: Game Over.
Matthew Gregory is a 12-year-old pupil at Longhill High School in Brighton, UK.
She stepped onto the abandoned platform. The breeze from a nearby train forced her tartan scarf to wrap around her icy neck. Reaching inside her pocket, she pulled out the tattered and torn ticket and held it loosely above her.
She closed her eyes and let the wind carry her.
Lisa Bird is a 12-year-old pupil at Longhill High School in Brighton, UK.
My mother speeds down the dirt path. I watch out the back window as the bright orange fire flickers against the smoke, fading into the distance.
My mother sighs heavily. I know she is thinking what I am thinking: we feel relief.
Our past has finally gone up in flames.
Brooke Lund is a grade 11 student at Charlottetown Rural High school. She submitted this as part of her creative writing course.